Storm On The Horizon Read online

  Chapter Two

  Tatiana's heart constricted at that thought. It was not only a shame, it was downright painful—and terrifying. She took a deep breath. "Yes, well. I have to pay for this gift that was given to me."

  "You pay for it every single day," Trina agreed. "You pay for it in all the training you have undergone, and now you'll have to pay for it by marrying only God-knows who."

  "Whosoever Mama chooses." Tatiana looked down at the floor, so that Trina couldn't see the tears burning in her own eyes. She hated that she would have no choice in whom she married. But again, her parents were right. Her husband would hold too important a role to be chosen lightly. She honestly didn't envy her parents the job of finding just the right man for the position.

  Tatiana took a deep breath. She was the direct descendent of Morgan le Fey, she reminded herself. She had the strength and the power to do anything she set her mind to—including marrying a man of her parents choosing. She lifted her chin and looked directly at her sister. "I will do my duty, and I do it willingly."

  "You've always taken your position seriously. You've always done just what you should..." Trina's voice trailed off as if she was about to say more.

  Tatiana nodded hesitantly, not sure what her sister implied.

  Trina flashed a sly smile. "So, why don't you put your looks back the way they should be and have some fun? You're only here for two weeks. What harm could come of it?"

  For the briefest of moments, Tatiana toyed with the idea. She could have so much fun if she did as her sister suggested. She could dance and flirt with the men they met. She could pretend that she didn't have a great destiny awaiting her; she didn't have a duty to her people. That she wasn't the most powerful Vallen in Great Britain, aside from her mother, with the ability to do nearly anything she could imagine.

  She could, for just two weeks, imagine that she was an ordinary girl living an ordinary life.

  Just the momentary thought was so powerful, so enticing Tatiana had to step back and collect herself. She had to remind herself just who she was and what she had always known would be her life—as high priestess of a magical people it was to her that they would turn for guidance. It was to her that they would come for help. Her destiny, to give birth to the Seventh, would renew the powers of her people that had grown weaker with each succeeding generation. The seventh child of the seventh child in the seventh generation would be the most powerful Vallen in decades, and it was Tatiana's duty to bear this child.

  It was for that reason, and that reason alone, that she must leave it up to her parents to choose her husband. He who would be the child's father. No, she was not and would never be an ordinary girl.

  Tatiana opened her mouth to reply, but Trina cut her off. "You deserve to have fun, too! Why can't you forget your destiny—just for one night? Throw caution to the wind, dance with any and every available gentleman—just for one glorious night?"

  The thought appealed to her. It was downright tempting. But she couldn't. Her mother had ingrained into her the importance of her position, her duty and her heritage. It was for this that she had given up so much of her childhood. Hours that Trina had spent playing, reading and learning to play the pianoforte, Tatiana had spent studying Vallen history, botany, herbs, potion making and everything else she would need to know as high priestess. This was a part of her. She couldn't just set it aside, no matter how badly she wanted to do so—even for just one night.

  But she also didn't want to make her sister feel bad, so she smiled and even gave a little laugh. "I promise to do my best."

  "Good!"

  "But I won't put my looks back because honestly, I don't want to detract from your chances at finding the perfect man."

  "But..."

  "No. That is the condition. I will dance with anyone and everyone who asks me, but you, my sweet sister, will be the gorgeous one tonight."

  Trina sighed but nodded her acceptance of Tatiana's conditions. She took another look at herself in the mirror. The slight smile grew on her face. "I am quite pretty, aren't I?" Without her smile slipping even the smallest bit, she added, "Although, we won't know if the men who ask me to dance aren't merely interested in my money. Grandmama has not let it be known just how much Papa is giving me for my marriage portion."

  "We'll jump that hurdle when we get to it," Tatiana said, not admitting her certainty that Trina would be sought after precisely for her money. If only she could have convinced their grandmother to keep that little tidbit of information to herself. But no, Lady Ashurst wouldn't hear of it. It was frustrating beyond belief.

  Before those grim thoughts could get much further, a knock sounded at the door. Even as it opened, Tatiana knew it was their grandmother. The waft of strong perfume always preceded the older lady wherever she went.

  "Girls? Are you ready to go?" their grandmother asked, popping her highly coiffed head around the door.

  "Yes, Grandmama," Tatiana said, dutifully.

  Her grandmother came further into the room. "Tatiana, what have you done to yourself? And Trina, my, my, don't you look beautiful?"

  Trina giggled. "It's all Tatiana's doing, Grandmama. She changed both of us ever so subtly. Now, I am pretty... and she is less so."

  "I see." Lady Ashurst turned toward her youngest grandchild. "And why have you done this, Tatiana?"

  "So that Trina gets all the attention and can find the husband she is looking for," Tatiana said. "Honestly, Grandmama, I don't need to worry about finding a husband, but Trina--"

  "Does," her sister finished for her.

  Their grandmother smiled in approval and inclined her head as much as her very tall hairstyle would allow. "You are a very good sister, Tatiana. It is a generous and proper thing that you have done,” she said smoothing down the skirt of her own thick, brocade silk dress. I believe, however, that you do not account for the avarice of the male population. "

  "Are you certain I cannot talk you out of disclosing that information, ma'am?" Tatiana asked.

  Her grandmother shook her head. "It is already out there, my dear. There is no calling it back."

  "But how will we know if a gentleman is truly interested in Trina, or just her money?"

  Lady Ashurst shrugged. "You won't."

  "But..."

  "Now, let us be off. We are already much too late."

  “That one," Lord Durrington nodded his head in the direction of a pretty girl with bobbing golden ringlets. "She looks Vallen."

  Even as they watched, the girl tripped over the hem of her dress. Her mother jerked her up with a fierce tug on her arm and saved her from flying to the floor.

  "Maybe not," Kit replied.

  "No, maybe not," his father agreed, resignation filling his voice. "How about the redhead? Redheads are mostly Vallen, aren't they?"

  "I don't know." Kit's eyes sought out the girl to whom his father referred. He found her and winced. She was indeed a redhead—vibrantly so, with brilliant orange hair and a laugh so loud it carried clear across the ballroom.

  "She could definitely be Vallen," Lord Durrington said. "Why don't you--"

  "No. Too loud," Kit objected before his father could even complete his sentence.

  "Well, you've got to go after some of them, Kit. You can't just reject every single one out of hand." His father's voice was getting testy.

  Kit sighed. He'd have to do something to appease Lord Durrington soon or he'd never hear the end of it. And it was why he was here after all, in London at a ball, rather than at home on his estate, looking after the spring planting.

  His father's constant letters, combined with his mother's tears, had forced him from his beloved estate. He'd finally given in and agreed to come and find someone to court, possibly marry.

  His family's dreams for him were beyond anything that Kit wanted, but it seemed that really didn't matter in the larger scheme of things. It was what he was expected to do.

  For the past six months, both his parents and grandfather had been incessantly rem
inding him of his duty as the future Viscount Vallentyn.

  So he'd come to London and this ball, expressly to find a wife among the new debutants. His father was already becoming impatient and they'd only been here an hour. He wanted Kit to marry and marry well.

  Pressure on both of them from Kit's grandfather didn’t help things either. The old Lord Vallentyn wouldn’t live forever. Although he had an heir in his own son, he was determined to ensure the continuation of the line through Kit. And the wife had to be Vallen the old gentleman had reminded them, as if they hadn’t already been aware of the necessity.

  But how could one tell if a girl was Vallen or not? It was nearly impossible. One couldn’t just announce it to the world. Their people had lived hidden amongst the ordinary folk of Great Britain for centuries now—ever since King Arthur's time-- if those childhood stories were true.

  "Charisma," Kit's grandfather had said when the question had been posed to him originally. "Either that or talent. Some sort of talent. Go to those..." he waved his hand aimlessly about, "... salons. See who is singing. Who is painting. Who is doing something bold and exciting. That is where you'll find the Vallen."

  His father hated attending "those salons", so instead they'd come to the first official ball of the season to see the debutants. Surely, among the finest of the ton they could find some appropriate girls.

  "What about her?" Lord Durrington nodded toward a new girl. She had not been there for long and already surrounded by a swarm of young bucks.